


I Pray You Die Slowly, So I Could Be The Last Thing You See

by RubyTuesday5681



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Barebacking, Complete, Depression, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, POV Third Person Limited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-10
Updated: 2012-04-10
Packaged: 2017-11-03 09:35:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/379957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyTuesday5681/pseuds/RubyTuesday5681
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard struggles as he mourns his grandmother’s death during the recording of <i>Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge</i>. Frank supports and loves him and helps pull him through it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Pray You Die Slowly, So I Could Be The Last Thing You See

**Author's Note:**

> Written for BRBB 2012 for the mix **When Your Soul Departs**. Listen to the mix [here](http://8tracks.com/aholelabledlove/when-your-soul-departs)  
> [Personal dedication](http://rubytuesday5681.livejournal.com/116573.html#cutid1)

Frank’s eyes look sad but Gerard pretends not to notice it. 

Frank looked like his usual bubbly self when he first walked into the bar and waved to everyone. It was when Gerard didn’t get up to hug him like he normally would that his face fell. Gerard can tell that Frank is valiantly trying to cover up the hurt by acting happy, but his eyes give him away. 

Gerard isn’t sure that anyone else would notice, but he always notices Frank’s eyes. From _‘I’m so happy, I’d love to die now so this is the last thing I experience’_ to _‘I’m so fucking angry, I’d like to set a whole town on fire’_ to _‘I’m sadder than I was the last time one of my dogs died.’_ This sad looks more like the hurt kind, but Gerard can tell that Frank’s trying not to take it personally and failing. 

It isn’t personal. 

When the rest of the guys get up to play foosball, Gerard slides around to Frank’s side of the booth and grabs his hand, squeezing it. “It’s not personal.”

Frank nods. “Okay. I mean, I know.” He doesn’t look convinced.

Gerard threads his fingers through Frank’s. “I think I’ve been hugged about six million times in the last week. If one more person hugs me, I might just shatter into more pieces than can ever be swept up again.” Frank simply shrugs and Gerard winces, his voice rising as he says, “I’m not being melodramatic, that’s how I feel.”

“Okay. It’s fine.” Frank’s voice is soothing as he says it. He rubs his thumb around on Gerard’s palm as he takes a long drink of his beer. When he puts it down, he says, “But it isn’t just that, I mean…” He shrugs again. “I texted you a lot and called since the funeral. I mean, why… are you just not answering your phone?”

Gerard sighs. “Yeah. I mean, no, but it isn’t just you, Frank, it’s everyone.” He shakes his head trying to find the right words. “Like… I know they mean well, yeah, but everyone wants to give condolences and ask how they can help and they all just keep asking me how I’m doing and what the fuck am I supposed to say to that, you know?”

Frank shifts minutely closer on the bench. The look in his eyes is shifting away from hurt and more toward understanding now. “I don’t know.” His voice is soft. “I don’t, not really. But I think I sort of get what you mean. It’s too much to have to keep going over it again.” 

“Right.” Gerard feels relieved that Frank gets it. “And everyone asks about my parents and Mikey and how are they doing and like… with each person I have to rehash everything, it’s too much.” Gerard lets his head fall against the high back of the booth. “And I’m so tired and I just want to sleep and I can’t… be _on_ for people yet. I keep giving Mikey my phone because I just can’t and we figure with close friends, like… you guys are going to understand.” He takes a deep breath, feeling like he’s run out of steam. He’s been feeling that way a lot since the funeral. “So it isn’t really personal about you or that I don’t want to talk to you, okay?”

Frank nods. “Okay.” He finishes his beer and munches on a few chips. Gerard closes his eyes and enjoys the quiet closeness. Eventually, Frank says, “So anyway…” Gerard opens one eye to see Frank smirking at him. He’s opening the other when Frank says, “How are you doing?”

Gerard pulls his hand away from Frank’s and says, “Fuck you,” but he’s sort of laughing and smiling a little as he says it. He knows Frank’s trying to lighten the mood because that’s what he does. Gerard figures he owes Frank some honesty after everything they’ve been through together, so he says the easiest and most honest thing he can. “It doesn’t feel real yet.” Frank nods and eats more chips. “Like, today my mom was doing all her laundry and folding everything to get ready to give away to the thrift store and it was like I thought she was in the house.” Frank looks slightly alarmed at that. “Not like a ghost. I just mean, like, her presence. Like when my great aunts came over for lunch, I kept expecting Elena to walk in and sit down to eat with us.”

Frank simply says, “Weird.”

Gerard actually feels better talking about it now that he’s started. “Yeah, and I was starting to freak out about it a little bit, so I made Mikey drive us by the cemetery on our way over here.”

Frank’s eyes go wide. “Wow.”

“Right, exactly. I mean, it hasn’t even been a full week since the funeral, but neither of us has been over there since then. I mean, it almost feels like it’s been way longer than that. You know? Like… I don’t fucking know, time is dragging or something.” 

Gerard trembles and Frank puts a hand on his arm. “How was it?”

Gerard closes his eyes remembering the eerie calm feeling of the grave site. “It was cold and sunny and we just sat down on the ground and stared at this big pile of dirt. That’s all that’s there. They can’t put in the headstone until spring when the ground thaws.”

“Oh, okay.” Frank rubs his hand up and down Gerard’s arm. 

“Anyway, it was weird because like… she wasn’t there.” Gerard stops and takes a swallow of his beer because it feels weird to say it. He wipes his mouth when he’s done and finally continues. “It wasn’t like it was at the house. We couldn’t sense her presence. She wasn’t at the cemetery.” Gerard has to pause before he finishes because it’s so hard to say the next words. “It’s just a body under a big pile of dirt. That’s all it is because she’s really gone.”

Gerard doesn’t cry. He feels fresh out of tears after how much he cried with his mom while helping her with the laundry. He does finally let Frank hug him, though. Frank’s solid warm weight against his chest is comfortingly familiar. He rests his head on top of Frank’s and thinks that Frank feels very alive. _Alive_. He thinks Frank is alive and Frank loves him and wants to help him. Even though it hurts, he needs to not push Frank away. He realizes that isn’t going to help. 

Frank nuzzles into him and says, “I love you, Gee.” 

Gerard doesn’t say anything, but it’s okay. Frank knows. 

*_*_*

“I don’t want any fucking flowers in the studio!” Gerard says harshly.

Mikey sits up from where he’d been lazing on the couch to give Gerard a high five for that one. “No flowers!” He reiterates. 

Ray adds that to the list he’s making of their imaginary demands for studio space if they were big enough that they could get whatever they wanted. 

“Why no flowers?” Frank pipes in as he bounces onto the couch by Gerard, landing half in his lap. 

“Because flowers smell like death. Officially,” Gerard says firmly, snaking a hand around Frank’s waist. 

Frank raises an eyebrow at him and then turns to Mikey for an explanation. Mikey takes pity on him. “Everyone sends you flowers when someone dies, but they never think about how overwhelming it is.” He scoots to sit up and starts gesturing as he speaks. “Like, our house isn’t that big, and so there’s only so many places to put them all. And people want to show how much they care by sending these massive arrangements.” He spreads his arms to show the scope of the arrangements. “Where the fuck are we gonna put thirty flower arrangements like that? And the smell, oh my god!” He throws his hands up.

“It’s fucking winter now and it’s cold out, so it isn’t like we can just open the windows to air out the house,” Gerard continues. “The smell is like…” Gerard scratches his head as he tries to come up with the words to explain. “It’s like a sentient being. Especially the roses. I mean a dozen roses smell nice, but when five or six people in one day send you vases full of roses, it’s like a fucking entity has taken up residence in your house. It’s nauseating!” 

Frank frowns at Gerard. It’s his _‘Your melodrama is making me pity you’_ frown, nothing too serious. He ruffles Gerard’s hair and says, “Okay, then. No flowers.” 

Ray nods vigorously, his hair nodding in a rhythm all its own, as he underlines the demand. “No flowers!”

*_*_* 

After a full day of writing, Frank manages to convince Gerard to go out to one of their favorite clubs with him. The band that’s playing isn’t anyone important, but Frank uses the argument that soon they’ll be back in LA to record and then touring for the album right away and who knows how long it’ll be before they can come back here again, and Gerard is persuaded. 

They don’t waste any time, downing two beers in quick succession once they sit down at the bar before moving on to whisky. They had ordered in dinner to eat while they were writing, but that was hours ago. It doesn’t take long for Gerard’s head to feel swimmy after the second shot, since his stomach is mostly empty. He doesn’t argue when Frank pulls him away from the bar to stand along the wall and watch the band. 

The band is mediocre; just okay really. But it’s fun to be at a show with Frank. Gerard can’t remember the last time the two of them just went to a show together. They watch the band play and critique their performance to each other. Frank cracks obnoxious jokes about the lead singer and Gerard giggles against him. Frank fists his hands in Gerard’s t-shirt as he can’t seem to get control of himself. He’s stuck in his giggle fit. 

Gerard looks down at Frank’s flushed face. He knows it’s the alcohol, but it’s almost like Frank is glowing. He looks young and carefree and happy. Gerard can’t remember the last time he felt that way and even though he can’t feel it, he feels like his heart is going to explode over seeing Frank experiencing that. Even as he continues to shake his silent laughs, Gerard feels a bit like crying, standing here watching the person he loves be so damn happy. 

But Gerard can’t feel it, he wants to feel it. 

He grabs Frank abruptly and maneuvers him away from the wall and through the crowd, yelling “Bathroom,” into Frank’s ear in reply to his confused expression. He pushes Frank through the men’s room door and doesn’t stop until he has him up against the wall inside the handicapped stall on the end. He kisses Frank hard and desperate, and Frank kisses him right back, making wild mewling noises as he does. 

It’s the first time they’ve kissed since Elena died. 

Gerard just couldn’t do any of it and Frank was so, so understanding about it. He hasn’t said a word or pressured Gerard or anything, and now they’re here and Frank tastes so good and so sweet and he’s Gerard’s and he loves him and Gerard was pushing him away and that was so, so stupid. 

Gerard finally pulls back to look into Frank’s eyes, he sees lust and tenderness there and also a touch of relief. Gerard grabs Frank by the shoulders and says, “I love you,” forcefully, shaking Frank as he says it. 

Frank says, “I love you, too,” and looks like he might cry and Gerard can’t have that, so he puts his hand over Frank’s face and moves down to suck on his neck, making the biggest, boldest hickey he can. Frank shakes under him as he does it, high-pitched wheezes escaping his throat. 

Gerard pulls back once he’s certain the mark will last for weeks. He rubs his thumb over the tender spot before bringing both his hands up to cup around Frank’s cheeks. “Life is just so fragile, Frankie. Everything can change in instant, you know?” Frank nods and Gerard kisses him again quickly. “I don’t want to die with regrets. Or for you to die with them-”

Frank cuts him off and says, “I’m not-” but Gerard just wraps his hand over his mouth to silence him.

“Let me say this.” Once he’s sure Frank isn’t going to speak, Gerard removes his hand. “I’m a mess right now, okay? I’m a fucking disaster. I can’t feel anything right, but I know I love you. I know it in my head and I won’t let my grief ruin us.”

Gerard deflates because he doesn’t really know where he was going with this. When Frank seems sure Gerard isn’t still going to say more, he timidly says, “Okay, Gee. It’s okay. You do what you need to do.” He carefully lays his palm on Gerard’s cheek and says, more boldly, “I want you to have what you need.”

Gerard turns his head and kisses the inside of Frank’s palm. “I need you, right now. And I don’t care that we’re in a fucking public bathroom because life is precious and nothing about tomorrow is ever certain.” 

He doesn’t say any more and Frank doesn’t argue as Gerard sinks to his knees. 

*_*_*

Much later that night, Gerard crawls back into bed with Frank and cuddles up close behind him. He kisses all over Frank’s bare back and shoulders before nuzzling into the side of his head and murmuring, “That was amazing. You are amazing.” 

He can feel Frank’s smile against the side of his face as he turns his head back and says, “Yeah?”

Gerard nods. “Yeah.” He snuggles in close, resting his head on Frank’s shoulder. 

Gerard had asked Frank to fuck him tonight once they got back. Actually, begged him desperately is more like it. It’s not something they do very often. Frank almost always bottoms, but this is what Gerard needed tonight. He needed the overwhelming sensation, the feeling of being used and adored. There’s no one in the world he trusts more than Frank to give him those feelings. 

He hadn’t been disappointed. 

Gerard had got up to go the bathroom a few minutes after they finished, and that’s when he could _really_ feel it. Now he knows he’ll still feel it tomorrow and that’s always nice. Gerard loves the souvenir of remembered sensation that comes after a good fucking. 

Gerard kisses over Frank’s shoulder, nipping and licking his way down his arm. He stops when he gets to the Lady of Sorrows and examines it closely. He doesn’t stop the unfiltered thought from spilling out when he asks, “So you don’t believe any of it anymore?”

Frank starts as if he wasn’t expecting more talking. He doesn’t move but mumbles, “Context is always good, Gee.”

Gerard smiles. He always does that – starts in on something without letting other people know what he’s talking about. He tries again, thinking about everything Frank learned in Catholic school. “What they taught you in school, you don’t believe any of it?”

Frank turns over and finally looks at where Gerard is still studying the tattoo. A look of realization dawns on his face. “Oh no. I mean, I don’t know. I think most of it is bullshit the church made up to scare people into doing what they wanted.” Frank doesn’t seem inclined to continue. Gerard looks up at him and raises his eyebrows. Frank sighs, clearly not wanting to get into this tonight, but finally he says, “I mean, obviously Jesus was a real dude and his actual message of love isn’t bad at all, but… I don’t know. I try not to obsess over it, too much.”

Gerard is pretty sure that Frank used the word ‘obsess’ intentionally. Because that’s what Gerard does. He obsesses. And he’s been obsessing over this lately. Since Elena died. He knows Frank doesn’t want to go here, but Gerard needs to and Frank said he wanted Gerard to have what he needs, so Gerard plunges forward. “What about after we die?”

Frank raises an eyebrow. “I don’t believe in Angels playing harps in the clouds or lakes of fire if that’s what you mean.”

“I don’t.” Gerard shakes his head. “I mean, I do, it’s just. I mean I _know_ that the traditional images of Heaven and Hell that we get from the church were all just made up by people, and I don’t really like the idea of punishment, I just…” he swallows, “can’t stand the idea that there’s just nothing after this.”

Frank wrinkles his brow and looks sad, really sad for a moment before he shakes his head. Turning toward Gerard to face him completely, he takes his hand and says, “It doesn’t have to be just nothing. It’s not either-or, either Christian Heaven and Hell or nothing. There are other options.” He kisses Gerard’s hand.

Gerard sighs. “I’m not talking about ghosts or zombies or fucking… paintings at Hogwarts.” Gerard waves his hand out of Frank’s grip on that last one, feeling exasperated. 

Frank grabs Gerard’s hand back and shushes him, the fingers of his other hand on Gerard’s lips. “I know that. I mean other religions have different ideas about what happens after you die. Maybe it’s like a drop in the ocean of total peace and the universal consciousness. I don’t know.” He turns his hand over on Gerard’s face and strokes the backs of his fingers up and down Gerard’s cheek. “But it isn’t up to me to tell you what you should believe happens after we die. I certainly can’t say for sure, and of course it might be nothing, but you should go with whatever it makes you happy to believe.”

“I don’t know.” Gerard shakes his head. “I don’t know what I want to believe. I’d definitely like to believe that souls are eternal.”

Frank shrugs. “Could be. But maybe it’s enough to know that our memories will live on forever in the hearts of the people who loved us while we were alive.”

“No, that’s not enough.” Gerard doesn’t mind this quiet disagreement. He knows Frank won’t get upset with him. “Because it only lasts as long as those people are alive, eventually you’ll be forgotten, it’s not forever.” He closes his eyes and sighs. “And I’d like to think that we can see our loved ones after we die. Or like, at least our souls will be together, you know?”

Frank nods. “I do know. I know that’s a nice thing to believe.”

Gerard squeezes his eyes shut, feeling tiny tears escaping them. He rubs his face against Frank’s shoulder. “Tell me,” he says desperately.

“Tell you what?”

Gerard takes a deep breath. He knows he’s asking a lot of Frank right now, but he _needs_ this. “Tell me we’ll be together.”

Frank sighs for a long time, but eventually says softly, “Our souls will be together after we die, Gerard.” He kisses the top of Gerard’s head very gently.

Gerard whispers, “Thank you,” and feels Frank nod in return. 

They don’t talk any more that night.

*_*_*

A couple of weeks later, Gerard walks into the kitchen of his and Frank’s tiny LA apartment feeling like death warmed over. He spies Frank standing at the counter, and his brain is still terribly fuzzy from the bender he went on last night, but he’s pretty sure that’s his shirt that Frank is wearing as he whistles happily while preparing coffee. Gerard’s fuzzy brain is also kind of irritated at Frank for acting all chipper and happy this early in the morning. He sounds snarky even to his own ears as he says, “Is that my shirt?”

Frank looks up at him, seemingly surprised to see him standing in the kitchen doorway. He raises an eyebrow. “I see you decided to get up.” He finishes setting up the coffee and then presses the button before turning and walking toward Gerard. He looks down at his shirt as if he doesn’t remember which one he put on today. When he reaches Gerard, he finally answers, “Yes, this is yours.”

Gerard is nonplussed by Frank’s display of morning cheerfulness. “Why are you wearing my shirt?”

Frank leans up and darts his tongue out, licking a stripe up Gerard’s neck. Gerard pulls back, startled, and Frank laughs, not at all offended. “I want to smell like you all day while we have to sit through these meetings.” Gerard wrinkles his nose. “You’ve only worn it once, so it’s the nice boyfriend smell, not the nasty, _‘my boyfriend only showers when I withhold sex’_ smell.”

Gerard snorts. He doesn’t resist when Frank leans up to kiss him, morning breath and all. He knows he’s been kind of a shit lately, especially to Frank, but Frank hasn’t complained. Hearing him happily call Gerard his boyfriend begins tugging up the guilt feelings that have been overwhelming him lately. He tried to apologize to Frank in his drunken state last night. He doesn’t remember a ton about it, his memory is pretty foggy about what all was said, but he knows it ended with Frank pushing a cold, wet washcloth over Gerard’s face and telling him he isn’t allowed to feel guilty for being sad. So Gerard tells the guilt feelings to ‘fuck off’ and instead simply says, “I love you,” when Frank finally pulls out of the kiss. 

Frank smiles at him brightly. “I love you, too. Now go take a shower, you can’t smell like piss and whisky while meeting with record company executives.” 

*_*_*

The thing is - Frank keeps wearing Gerard’s shirts. 

Gerard notices each time and files it away in his ‘Frank’s recent strange behaviors’ folder in the back of his brain. 

There’s the thing about wearing his shirts, and also that each night when Frank comes to bed he brings in a glass of water and puts in on Gerard’s nightstand. It seems like an odd thing, but Gerard always drinks it. He’s fucking grateful for it actually, when he wakes up in the morning with horrible cotton mouth from drinking too much the night before. 

And then there’s the thing where Frank always grabs Gerard’s sketch pad and drawing pencils when they leave the apartment - ‘in case you feel like drawing something’ - even though Gerard hasn’t been drawing much lately. Frank’s been keeping all of the pencils meticulously sharpened and somehow, on the worst days, when Gerard feels like everything is just about to fall apart, he’ll look over and notice his sketchpad is just casually sitting there, as if it was just waiting for him to go a little bit extra crazy and need to draw out all his feelings. He isn’t sure how Frank is doing it, but he’s grateful for it, just the same. 

There’s also this thing where Gerard keeps finding new framed pictures of Elena around the apartment. Well, okay, there are only three, and there are dozens more pictures of Frank and Gerard’s friends and family, but Gerard notices that the pictures of Elena always seem to be front and center in Frank’s displays. 

Gerard tries not to fixate on these things or question them because thinking too hard is just too damn much work these days. Gerard has nothing left to give at the end of each day spent in the studio and he certainly isn’t going to let himself obsess over his boyfriend being strangely thoughtful. That is not a bad thing. This is what he tells himself as he guzzles through his third beer of the night after a ridiculously long day of recording and then immediately orders two shots of whisky. 

The problem, though, is that his brain won’t stop. For some reason the thoughts want to come, even when they’re about dumb things, like worrying about glasses of water and framed pictures. Gerard had hardly slept since they’d been in LA, his racing thoughts keeping him up all night, and finally last week, Frank convinced him to go the doctor and get sleeping pills. They work, but he doesn’t dream. Gerard hates that. He wants to dream.

Mikey asks him about it when he joins Gerard at the bar after getting some girl’s number. “Have you been sleeping better?”

“Yeah,” Gerard admits. “But I only get like… maybe six hours, at the most, before I wake up and then the thinking starts again.”

Mikey shakes his head sadly. “That’s not enough.”

“I know.” Gerard sighs. “And it’s the wrong kind of sleep, too. Like, it’s too deep of a sleep. When I wake up each time feels like I’m coming out of a coma or something.”

Mikey’s eyes widen. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” Gerard knocks back one of the shots. “And I know Frank won’t ever admit it, but he wakes up when I do. I mean, he goes back to sleep, but having his sleep interrupted like that has to mess him up at least a little bit.”

Mikey shrugs. “He seems okay.”

Frank didn’t come out with them tonight. He usually does, but tonight he had a headache and just wanted to go home. Gerard finds him sprawled out on the couch with an ice pack on his head, listening to a Harry Potter movie when he comes home. 

Frank raises an arm in a feeble wave, but doesn’t take the ice pack off his face.

Gerard stands and looks at Frank for a moment. He feels like his guts are twisting up inside him. He realizes he resents Frank. He resents Frank for not being a mess like he is and he can’t stand that. He wants to ravage Frank right now, tear all his clothes off and do unspeakable things to him. He wants to fall apart and cry and beg at his feet, making him promise to never ever leave him even though he’s a disgusting monster and a pathetic excuse for a person. 

He doesn’t do either of these things. He goes into the kitchen and pulls the bottle of Jack out of the cabinet and drinks it straight. He sits down on the floor next to Frank on the couch and leans back against it. Frank brings his hand up to run his fingers through Gerard’s hair and when he finally moves back the ice pack to look, he asks, “More? You didn’t have enough at the bar?”

Gerard shakes his head and has to will himself not to fucking cry. Finally, he chokes out “I just can’t take it.” He shakes his head, swallowing hard. “Just everything, it’s too fucking much.”

Frank blows out a long breath and Gerard thinks there might be a breathed endearment in there, something like, “Oh love.” Frank’s eyes are sorrowful, and thank God, Gerard can’t find any pity in them, just a deep sadness. 

Gerard decides to allow some of his pent-up frustrations to come out. He knows he hasn’t really been honest with Frank. He’s been holding it all in, trying not to burden Frank. After a minute, he says, “I’m doing everything right. Everything I’m supposed to. I’m taking the fucking pills, the antidepressants and the anti-anxiety pills, and the sleeping pills.” He waves his hand as he expounds. “And I’m sleeping as much as I can, and I’ve been going to see the damn therapist twice a week since we got here, but I just…” Gerard hates himself a little bit as he feels tears welling up. “I still feel… It fucking hurts, Frank. It still hurts.” Gerard is crying now, practically choking on the words as he says, “I still miss her so much.” 

Frank pulls Gerard up onto the couch, turning sideways so that their bodies can fit together and lets Gerard cry into his neck for a long time. When Gerard can finally breathe long enough speak, he pulls away and tries to explain. “It’s just that nothing else really numbs it completely, you know?” Frank opens his mouth like he wants to answer, but Gerard puts a finger on his lips, stopping him. “It’s okay, you don’t know. It’s fine. I just mean, the pills and the counseling are great - they make it so that I can function, but the hurt is always still there. She’s always right there in my mind.” Gerard wipes the remaining wetness off his cheeks. “Drinking is the only thing that numbs the pain. I just need that oblivion right now; because without it I’m just thinking all the time, all the stupid thoughts chasing enough other around. Oh my God, Frank, I’m going to become an alcoholic.” It isn’t the first time Gerard’s had that thought, but it terrifies him a little bit to actually speak it out loud. “I don’t mean to, I just don’t know how else to get through recording this album.”

“Shhhh,” Frank is saying it softly, his hand soothingly rubbing up and down Gerard’s arm. He may have been doing this for a while, Gerard isn’t sure. He was pretty caught up in his own words. “It’s just temporary. It’s while we finish the album. It’s fine. Once we get on the road again, we’ll have changes of scenery all the time and we’ll be busy and playing every night will be good for us. It will be…” he waves a hand, “cathartic. It’ll be cathartic to get to play through this album all the time, so it’ll be fine. This is just for now, just to finish recording.”

Gerard sniffles and laughs at the absurdity of Frank’s words. “So I’m just a temporary alcoholic?”

Frank smiles. “Something like that, yeah.”

Gerard sighs, feeling a tiny bit better. He lets his head rest on Frank’s chest. “The stupid sleeping pills don’t let me dream. I want to dream about her so bad. If I could just see her face…” He trails off because there isn’t really anything else to say. He feels Frank running his fingers around on his back, making some kind of pattern that Gerard can’t identify. “I’m such a fucking mess right now. I don’t know how you can handle me.”

Frank kisses the top of his head and says, “Neither do I, but I’m doing okay. I mean, things really aren’t the same right now, because we’re sort of in this strange limbo, being in LA and not really settled. There’s a lot of weirdness.” Frank lifts up Gerard’s head so that he’ll look at him before he continues talking. “But I know that when I’m with you, I’m home, even when you’re a disaster. So it’s okay. It’s fine. I’m supposed to be with you. Whatever it is you’re going through, I can endure it because that’s what you do when you love someone.” He touches Gerard’s lips so, so softly. “Being sad doesn’t make you stop loving me, right?”

“Of course not.”

“Well, then, I guess we’ll be okay. They say it just takes time, right?”

Gerard nods. He isn’t sure he really believes Frank, but he wants to. And right now wanting to believe him is just enough to get him through another dreamless night. 

*_*_*

The next day is a lot better. They have an awesome time in the studio recording and everyone’s riding high and feeling optimistic when they finally leave for the night. 

It’s late, so Frank and Gerard go straight back to their place. Gerard pounces on Frank as soon as they’re through the door, begging him to fuck him. 

Of course Frank says he’s happy to fuck him. Gerard knows he’s probably starting to get tired of topping all the time, but he doesn’t say anything. He just prepares Gerard exactly the way he likes and then fucks him into the mattress. He keeps his thrusts slow and smooth at first and builds up gradually, dragging it out. Gerard always comes first and by the time Frank is slamming into his own orgasm, coming deep inside Gerard’s ass, Gerard has completely lost himself in the overstimulation. He’s crying, practically sobbing, as Frank shudders inside him, jerking through the aftershocks. 

With real tears falling down his cheeks, shuddering and shaking, he grabs onto Frank’s arms where they’re wrapped around him and begs him not to pull out yet. “Just stay a little bit longer, for a little while. Please,” he whispers. 

Frank carefully lies down on top of Gerard, kissing all over his cheek and shoulder, fingers threading through his hair tenderly. “I love you,” he whispers. “I love feeling you; love being inside you.”

The sweet words catch Gerard by surprise and he just cries more. It’s a long time before he finally catches his breath as the tears slow down and he lets Frank slowly pull out. He says, “I’m sorry,” about a dozen times before Frank finally tells him to shut up. 

Gerard splashes cold water on his face when he gets up to go to the bathroom. When he comes back into the bedroom, Frank opens his arms to him and pulls him close in bed. Gerard doesn’t really have anything to say, but he feels like he needs to say something. “I’m not entirely sure what that was all about.”

“It’s okay,” Frank says. “Do you feel sad?”

“Yes,” Gerard admits. “But not about the sex, the sex was wonderful.”

“Well that’s good to know.” Frank shifts so that he’s facing Gerard. “Sex can be really emotional. It’s okay,” he says again. 

Gerard takes a deep breath and tries to sort through everything that’s been happening in his mind. He wants to let Frank in on it, doesn’t want to shut him out. “While you were… making love to me, I don’t know why, I started thinking about…” Gerard swallows. “I was thinking about death again, of course, and I was thinking about Romeo and Juliet.”

Frank taps his fingers on Gerard’s chest and appears to be trying to wrap his mind around Gerard’s train of thought. “Morbid and romantic, okay, go on.”

“Well, I don’t know. I just. It’s like what we talked about before, about our souls being together after we die.” Frank raises his eyebrows and waits. Gerard sighs. “It’s dumb. I’m just being macabre is all. In its own way, it’s sweet. I mean, even though it’s idiotic. I mean two people in love offing themselves rather than live without each other…” he trails off, but adds in, “It happens a lot in operas, too.”

“Hmmmm.” Frank makes a thoughtful face. Eventually, he says, “It’s not dumb. I’d totally kill you if we couldn’t be together.”

Gerard laughs, startled. “Shut up.”

“No, no I’m serious.” Frank nods and moves up the bed so that he’s looming over Gerard. “I mean, I’d obviously kill myself after since I couldn’t bear to live without you, but yeah. I’d totally kill you.”

Gerard pushes playfully against Frank’s chest. “You’re nuts.”

“Yup,” Frank agrees glibly. “This is what I’d do.” He places his hands around Gerard’s neck. “I’d do it during sex. I’d wait until after you came and then I’d do it as if it was just breathplay, only I wouldn’t stop until you were dead.” He squeezes his hands around Gerard’s neck slightly, his thumbs resting over Gerard’s windpipe. “Yeah, just like this. I’d gradually squeeze tighter and tighter and you wouldn’t even realize what was happening. But you’d die looking at me, so you’d always remember.” He lets go of Gerard’s neck and Gerard takes a deep breath. Frank lies down with his head on Gerard’s chest. “Then I’d come inside you and shoot myself without even pulling out first. It’s totally romantic, right?”

Gerard is silent for a moment before he says, “You are completely insane.” It’s all he can think of to say.

Frank shrugs. “How do you feel now?”

Gerard giggles nervously. It comes out high pitched like it does when he’s unsure. “Ummm, a little terrified, a little turned on.”

Frank turns his head to look up at Gerard and raises an eyebrow. “But you forgot about being morbid for a little while, right?”

Gerard gasps. “You fucker.” He grabs Frank roughly by the hair and kisses him hard for a long time. 

*_*_*

They take a day off once they finally feel like they’re in the home stretch. They’re almost finished with recording and touring plans are starting to take shape. Gerard’s been working on the cover art for the album and feels really good about it. 

On this day off, Gerard had been looking forward to spending the day in bed and maybe marathoning some Mystery Science Theater or Lord of The Rings, but Frank insists that they need to get out since it’s such a nice day.

“It’s always nice out in LA,” Gerard grumbles into his coffee as Frank pulls him into a park near their apartment. Gerard plants himself on the first bench he sees. 

“That doesn’t mean we should take it for granted,” Frank says as he sits. “We’re only here for so long.”

Gerard shrugs and complains, “This park is fucking boring compared to my TV.” Frank starts listing off the things to see in the park that aren’t in their apartment. He mentions the trees and flowers, birds, animals, people watching, nature, fresh air. Finally, Gerard gets annoyed with the list and snaps, “Those are all things I can watch on TV!”

“Shut up, Gerard.” Frank retorts. Gerard shuts up because even though Frank tells him to shut up all the time, his tone is more abrupt that normal this time. Frank picks up Gerard’s hand and threads their fingers together. “Just relax, okay?”

Gerard swallows and says, “Okay,” somewhat timidly before cautiously sipping his latte. 

Frank leans back against the bench and looks up into the sky, smiling, basking in the sun. “Do you know what I’m doing?” he asks.

Gerard has no clue. But he knows Frank looks silly and he can see that his eyes are closed behind his sunglasses. “Acting like a goofball?” he finally says.

Frank sighs, but doesn’t open his eyes or change his basking pose. “I’m making vitamin D and serotonin,” he says sagely. He shrugs then, and adds, “Well, the sun is actually, making it, the vitamin D, especially.” He opens his eyes and turns toward Gerard. “But the point is those are both things that give you energy and make you happy. Sunshine is _good_ for you.”

Gerard snorts. He’s not convinced, but he doesn’t want to annoy Frank by being antagonistic. “Sure,” he says.

Frank elbows him in the side. “You just wait and see,” he says confidently. “You will feel better later just from spending some time in the sun, even if we only sit here for a half hour.”

Gerard thinks about it and knows that Frank is probably right. His therapist has been bugging him to spend more time outside during the day. Apparently natural light is important. Gerard isn’t sure about that, but he says, “Okay, so if we sit here for a half hour, then can we go back and watch Lord of The Rings?”

Frank sighs long-sufferingly and lays his head on Gerard’s shoulder. “Fine.”

Gerard rests his head on top of Frank’s. He actually feels sort of peaceful, it’s nice. He doesn’t tell Frank though. Frank will be smug and that would ruin it. Instead, he holds it inside and files it away in the folder in his brain that he has filled with _‘reasons why things might actually end up being okay.’_

*_*_*

Gerard somehow manages to get through finishing the album. It isn’t easy. There are lots of tears and lots of alcohol and pills and frustration and still more pain and sadness. But it gets done. And it’s damn good, too. 

Recording Helena and Ghost of You had made Gerard feel a little bit like he was ripping his heart out and turning himself inside out. He felt raw and empty and broken by the time they were finished, but listening to the songs on playback at the end made it all worth it. 

The album ends up being all they ever could have hoped it would be. Gerard can feel that it’s going to be big. He can feel it. He knows it, but he isn’t going to say anything about it to the other guys. He won’t jinx it.

When he and Frank get home after the last night of recording, Frank paws desperately at Gerard as they’re getting in bed. “Will you fuck me tonight, please.” His voice has a yearning quality that Gerard’s rarely heard and it’s breaking his heart a little bit. “I just need to feel you.”

Of course Gerard can’t say no to that. It’s been too long, months, but he can’t say no if Frank needs him. It’s the first time Frank’s come right out and asked, even though he’s hinted at it in recent weeks. 

For some reason Gerard is nervous. He takes a long time preparing Frank, until he’s writhing under his fingers and pleading with Gerard to just fucking do it already. When Gerard lines up and finally pushes in, it feels like coming home. Gerard smiles to himself as he has that thought, because it’s just so cliché. _Like coming home_ , it’s almost embarrassing and Gerard can’t believe he thought those words, but they’re true. That’s exactly how it feels. Frank’s tight heat is exactly how Gerard remembers it. Opening up and welcoming him in. 

Gerard goes as slowly as he can, waiting to jerk Frank off until he’s almost ready to come himself. They don’t quite manage the coveted simultaneous orgasm, but they come close, with Frank going off less than a minute before Gerard. Gerard thinks that’s pretty good and calls it a win.

He stays buried inside Frank, just kissing him for a while before he pulls out. Frank gets up to go to the bathroom, but he talks to Gerard the whole time he’s gone about how fucking good that was - how it was so amazing and perfect and wonderful. He talks about how beautiful Gerard is and how much he loves him and by the time he comes back, Gerard has tears in his eyes again. When Frank sees them, his face falls momentarily, but Gerard reaches for him and pulls him down on top of him, kissing him deeply. “Happy tears,” he says when he pulls back. “These are happy tears.”

Frank grins at Gerard and he’s beaming, crying some happy tears of his own.

*_*_*

The first time Gerard listens to Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge all the way through, he has this idea that he’s actually listening to his own blood and guts and tears stripped out of him and dumped out to music and being played back for him. He was told when he first started writing lyrics that listening to his own songs might feel like being naked. This feels nothing like being naked. It’s worse. It feels more like being inside-out. He doesn’t just feel like all his clothes are off, he feels like his skin’s been pulled off, too. He feels like his bones and tendons and organs are showing. But mostly what he realizes is that Frank was right about what he said about touring. It is going to be cathartic to tour for this record. It’s going to be amazing and before the final song is even finished, Gerard realizes that he can’t wait to go out on the road again.

It isn’t long before they get their touring schedule and start packing up the apartment and start thinking about traveling again for who knows how long. Gerard hopes it’s a long time because that will mean that the album did well. 

He has all kinds of apprehensions, though, and in those soft sweet moments after he and Frank have fucked six ways from Sunday, Gerard just can’t quite keep the apprehensions from coming out. 

His head is rested on Frank’s chest and he’s just enjoying feeling the rise and fall from Frank’s slow, sure breaths. His fingers are threading gently through Gerard’s hair. Gerard whispers, “Frankie.”

“Hmmm?” Frank’s fingers still and he moves them down to trace around the outside of Gerard’s ear. 

“Are we going to be okay?”

Frank’s quiet for a few seconds before replying, “Of course.”

Gerard turns his head to look up at Frank. “Why do I feel like we’re going into battle and might not all come back alive?”

Frank shrugs. “Well, we kind of are going into battle, but…” He turns his head and appears to be considering his words before he says, “I’m sure we’ll all come back alive.” He takes a deep breath before continuing. “I mean, it might not be perfect. Being on the road for a long time is never easy, but we all have each other, the band, I mean, so we’ll be okay, because we’re the kind of band that lasts.”

Gerard can feel his forehead wrinkling involuntarily. “But how do you know that?”

“I don’t know.” Frank scratches at Gerard’s scalp while he thinks. “It’s just this feeling I get. I’ve always had it about the band… about you and me.” Gerard raises an eyebrow. “And if you actually meant you and me, well, we’ll be fine.” Frank nods his head as if that seals it. 

Gerard shakes his head. “How are you always so sure of that?”

“Because we love each other.” Frank says it as if it’s the simplest, most reasonable explanation in the world. Gerard thinks maybe it is. “I love you, and I wouldn’t give you up for anything in the world, and I like to think that you feel the same about me.”

“I do,” Gerard says immediately. “Of course I do.”

Frank smiles, big and bright and full of sunshine. “Then whatever happens, we’ll be okay.”

Gerard can’t help it as he returns Frank’s confident smile. “Promise?”

Frank leans his head down just enough to plant a firm kiss on Gerard’s lips. “I promise.”

 

END


End file.
